


The Statue

by BarPurple



Series: Halloween House of Horror 2018 [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Tournament (2009)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Ghosts, mild swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 06:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16299590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: The return of a statue to Father MacAvoy's church brings with it the resolution of a story that started over a century ago.





	The Statue

Joseph re-read the letter from the bishop for the fourth time. It still made no sense. The panic he’d felt when he’d seen the envelope had made the letters swim at first, but once he’d failed to find anything that suggested he was being transferred or fired they had come into focus. Not that being able to see the words clearly had helped his comprehension. He wasn’t stupid, but the first line kept tripping him up. The bishop was offering an apology.

“Belle? Could you come and read this please?”

The only time Joseph had heard the bishop utter the word ‘sorry’ was when he was using it to describe what sort of excuse for a priest he thought Joseph was, or to point out the state of the church’s finances.

“What’s the matter Padre?”

Joseph handed Belle the letter and took a slow breath. Force of habit drove his hand towards his flask, but he twanged the think elastic band around his wrist instead. He still drank more than was healthy, but he was doing much better these days. Breaking the muscle memory wasn’t easy, but the snap of the rubber band against his wrist gave him time to decide if a drink was sensible right now. He considered it progress that at least three times out of five his flask stayed in his pocket.

Belle snorted at the letter. Joseph wondered what had provoked that response. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Apparently a bronze statue was removed from the church during the renovations after the terror attacks.” – In a sing song tone, she quoted from the letter, - “An unfortunate mix up resulted in said statue being placed in storage since that time. This has now been corrected and the statue will be reinstalled on the tenth of this month.”

Joseph tilted his head and looked at Belle’s posture and the curl of her lips; “You don’t believe it was a mistake?”

“No, the bishop never apologises, I’d say he’s been caught out in trying to claim a very pretty statue for the cathedral.”

She handed him a printed photo that he’d not noticed. A smile spread across his face as he took in the details of the statue, “This is Constance.”

“A saint?”

Joseph shook his head and tried to remember what his predecessor had told him. The details were hard to reach through the years of whiskey fog in his brain, but he dredged up what he could.

“She was from an important family in the area, a patron of the church in eighteen something, I think. I know she scared the shite out of me my first week here.”

Belle raised her eyebrows at him. There was nothing mocking in her look, just the curiosity she always had for a new story. He wished the tale was more interesting.

“Constance stands up on the balcony above the main door. I was praying late one night and as I turned around the lights flickered. It looked like she moved. I thought someone was up there. Felt like a right prat when I got to the top of the stairs and found it was just a statue.”

He couldn’t remember why he’d raced up the stairs to the balcony that night, but he did recall a strange feeling of loss that he’d not found anyone. He’d not been able to explain it then and the intervening years had given him no new insights.

Belle was studying the picture; “I can see why you thought someone was there. She’s very lifelike.”

“It’ll be good to have her back. I’d thought she’d been destroyed in the explosion.”

He’d thought that because the bishop had told him that. From the knowing look on Belle’s face she knew that her suspicions had been confirmed, but she wasn’t going to say anything, for now. The bishop had better watch out the next time he made an oh-so-polite dig at the range of books in the small library Belle ran from the church hall.

-x-

Belle was itching to start researching Constance’s history. Joseph had looked adorably awkward when she’d asked if he’d ever considering finding out more about the statue.

“There’s no living family. Or if there is they aren’t local anymore.”

He’d offered to help, but Belle gently pointed out that he had a congregation of living souls who needed him.

“Mrs Buchannan had her cast off yesterday, she’d looking forward to kicking your arse at rummy again now she can deal.”

Joseph grinned. Mrs Buchannan had broken her wrist playing football with her grandchildren. She was a demon card player and Joseph was one of the few people who would still play against her.

“One of these days I’ll catch her stacking the deck.” He ran his hand through his hair and fiddled with the rubber band on his wrist. “Constance would have been buried in the churchyard, that’d give you a surname to work with.”

Belle bounced on her toes with excitement and shooed Joseph off to begin his visiting. After loading a bag up with a new notebook, plenty of pens, and the power block for her phone she headed into the churchyard. She’d spent so much time organizing the church and the rectory that she’d not explored the graveyard yet. The larger stones and memorials were a familiar part of her day to day world, but only in a background way. Before she pushed through the lychgate she took a moment to focus on her task.

“I’m looking for Constance.”

She’d probably get a bit distracted, but she’d tried to set her mind on the right track.

She discovered that Constance had been a popular name in the nineteenth century. There were seven different women with that name remembered on various gravestones and plaques. Three had died in infancy so she ruled them out. If their families had raised a statue to them it would have been more likely to take the form of a cherub not a grown woman.

One lichen covered stone bore the name, but the dates were in the seventeen hundreds, which was too early. She made a note just in case Joseph had gotten the time frame wrong.

She found a Constance Parker and a Constance Smallwood both with grand memorials and dates that fitted. She took photos of the gravestones and made sure that all the relevant information was clear.

The third Constance was listed on a family tomb. The Atkinson men took up most of the space, their roles as key players in the community listed in poetic detail. Constance’s name and dates were in a much smaller font at the very bottom of the stone. She was listed only as ‘mother’. Belle thought that was odd, the usual phrasing was ‘wife and mother’, with ‘beloved’ or ‘dearly missed’ as a descriptor.

“What did you do to deserve such a snub Constance?”

There was room enough for her to have had more of an inscription. It could have been that the family’s fortunes had fallen at the time of her death and this was the best they could afford. Belle double checked the dates of the Atkinson patriarch and sons. Her husband had died within a year of her. Curious. A family who would barely give Constance space on their tomb didn’t strike Belle as the sort who would commission a near life size statue of her to stand in a place of honour in the church.

She took a photo of the Atkinson tomb just in case, there could well be some tradition that a statue in the church dictated such a small inscription on the family tomb. She brushed the knees of her jeans off as she stood up and considered what to do next. Most of the church’s own records had been destroyed in the explosion, but the central library held copies of most of them, as well as newspapers and the like from the time period she needed.

“Next stop the library.”

The central library in Middlesbrough was a bus ride away from the church. Belle glanced at her watch, the school run would be starting soon, and she found the buses to crowded at this time of day. She’d leave it until tomorrow.

Heading out of the churchyard a gravestone caught her eye. It took her a moment to figure out what had drawn her attention. This was the marker for an Adam Asher, but the inscription contained the name she’d spent all morning looking for.

“Life divided us, but in death, my constance heart, we will be united.”

Belle muttered the words out loud twice and frowned; “Shouldn’t that be ‘constant’?”

Was this an engraving error, or a reference to a thwarted love? For all Belle knew this could be a common quote for the time that would have made perfect sense to a Victorian. The thought of a forbidden romance recorded forever in stone appealed to her inner romantic. She snapped a picture of the stone, just in case it had something to do with the Constance she was looking for.

-x-

The next day Belle took care to time her visit to the library just as the morning rush hour finished. Joseph had confessed that he’d had a little too much to drink the night before so wasn’t in a fit state to drive her, but he had offered her the taxi fare for a return trip. She’d told him to save the money to treat them to take out from the posh pizza place for movie night. She had a feeling he’d insist that they had pineapple on the pizza as an apology for not being able to drive her. Joseph loathed pineapple on pizza as much as she loved it. She shouldn’t laugh, but the faces he pulled when he found a piece buried under the cheese on his slice were hilarious.

The Central Library was a late Victorian building that managed to be both classic and modern. Belle spent a little while admiring the vaulted glass ceiling as she waited for her turn to speak with the librarian.

"Good morning, what can I help you with today?"

Belle jolted away from her contemplation of the ceiling and offered the librarian a shy smile. He didn't look to be irritated by her wool gathering. She pulled her notebook from her bag and hoped she looked more organized that she felt.

"I'm looking for information on these women. Family histories, any mentions in the press that sort of thing."

He read over her list as he scribbled numbers on his own notepad; "Researching your family tree?"

"Oh no. I'm trying to identify a statue in the church."

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her. For all of a second Belle was puzzled then it dawned on her. She might think if it as ‘the church’, but it was hardly the only one in Middlesbrough.

"Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy."

The librarian nodded; "That will help narrow it down considerably. These are all big family names in the period but knowing which branch to look for makes a world of difference."

Belle understood his point. Middlesbrough, like many towns and cities in England, was made up of smaller villages and hamlets. Where having several churches of the same name in an area wasn't a problem when each place was an individual village, it got a bit more confusing once they'd been swallowed by urban sprawl. Joseph's church might have a long name, but it was unique in the city.

"Okay. Follow me and I'll get you set up in the archives. None of the items can be checked out, but you can make photo copies."

Belle listened to the rules and prices for making copies as he led her in to an older part of the building. The welcoming scent of beeswax, wood and old paper made her sigh happily. The librarian gave her an appraising look and a nod.

"A fellow bibliophile I see. You'll get on fine with Mrs Barton."

They shared a look of kindred spirits and he introduced her to the archivist. Mrs Barton put Belle in mind of a school teacher, the first teacher you got once you were around seven and the serious learning began. She had that air of welcoming sweetness wrapped around a steel core that would brook no nonsense or misbehaviour. Belle liked her.

"Let's have a look at what you need my dear."

Belle explained again her quest to identify the statue. Mrs Barton nodded making her spectacle chain rattle softly.

"Wonderful. It’s good to know there is someone who cares about the past and wants to remember. You've narrowed it down for us. My first instinct is that she's not a Parker. Not ones for statues that family, not one of them in the city no matter how important they were, always said the bronze was a waste and the money was better spent on investments apparently."

She hummed at the rest of Belle's short list; "My grandmother always said there was a big scandal around Connie Atkinson, but she was one for her gossip. Do you know how to work the microfiche readers?"

Belle took the lesson because it had been a while since she'd done this sort of research. The machine looked a lot fancier than the old ones she had used at university, but the basics were the same.

“I'll leave you to it dear. I'll been at the desk or thereabouts if you need help.”

Belle spent a happy hour discovering what she could about the various Constances laid to rest in the church. The first task was to discover their maiden names since that information hadn't featured on the gravestones. They were all from small but well to do families.

"Advantageous marriages ladies. Mrs Bennett would be proud."

While Constance Parker nee Cathcart and Constance Smallwood nee Watson had come from Sussex and Scotland respectively Connie Atkinson nee Thorns had been a local. She hailed from a rich family and had been lauded as the catch of the season during her debutante year. It took Belle a while to get into the circular phrasing of the period, but she was soon frowning at scarcely veiled references to the "thorny maid". Young Connie Thorns had rejected many a "suitable young swain of good fortune"

“I like you more and more Connie.”

In the adverts scattered throughout the papers she spotted Asher Apothecary she wondered if Adam Asher of the mysterious inscription was part of that family.

She almost missed a tiny little announcement about an engagement between Adam Asher and Connie Thorns. Considering what she had read concerning the speculation about an upcoming union between John Atkinson and Connie it was a surprise. She combed through the next issues of the society pages and the newspaper but found no mention of either family until the lavish and grand announcement that Connie would be wedded to Atkinson the following month.

Belle’s mind began whirring with the story the bare bones of the facts suggested to her. Adam and Connie had been in love, regardless of their differing stations in life. John Atkinson had been wildly jealous and had used his money and power to pull them apart and claim Connie’s hand in marriage for himself. Although John had wed Connie she never gave him her heart and the cold years of a loveless marriage had left him bitter enough to barely allow her space on the family tomb after her death.

Belle shook her head. She'd gotten caught up in the idea of a historical romance playing out in the parish more than a hundred years ago. She stood up and took a circuit around the room to help her refocus on her task. She had found the three Connie's but was no closer to discovering which was the statue.

“I need to keep looking.”

The statue was a death memorial, so she needed to look at the end of their lives. She settled back down and spun the archives to the correct dates.

Mrs Barton had been right there were no statues for the Parker family. There was one for Constance Smallwood, but the face was nothing like their statue. It was looking more likely that their Constance was the thorny maiden. Her theory was closer to being confirmed when she found a picture of Connie. Even allowing for the sculptor's artistic license the face was a good match.

“I think we have a winner.”

The announcement in the paper for Connie's death was as sparse as the engraving on the Atkinson tomb. It added to the story that John Atkinson had never received his wife’s love. Belle knew she was weaving a fanciful tale, but the life and love of Connie Thorns had captured her imagination.

Checking her watch, she decided she had time to try one more avenue of investigation. The picture of the statue was high quality likely taken for insurance purposes.

“Mrs Barton, you wouldn't happen to recognise the sculptor, would you?”

It was a long shot but if it had been commissioned locally then she might be able to find who had paid for it. Mrs Barton considered the photo for a long moment.

“Hum It looks a lot like Elliot Farrell’s work. He had a studio here in Middlesbrough.”

Belle was over the moon when Mrs Barton dug out a catalogue of artist which contained pictures of works whose style matched their statue. Mrs Barton proved worth her weight in gold when she offered to help Belle find Farrell’s accounts, there would be an entry for the statue and that would let them know who had paid for it.

“It will take a while to locate the account books. Why don’t you leave a contact number and I can give you a bell when we have them?”

Belle jotted down the rectory number and thanked Mrs Barton for all her help. She left the library with a mass of photocopies of newspapers and records for the Constance Atkinson. Her mind was full of ideas for offering family tree research for the parish. She was sure they could set up links with the central library. Think of all the family stories they could discover and preserve.

-x-

Joseph listened avidly as Belle explained her findings over dinner that evening. She was bright eyed and excited as she told him her theory of forbidden love and jealousy.

“Of course, that could all be nonsense, but it’s a nice story.”

He shrugged; “Maybe not as far fetched as all that. I did a bit of research myself today. The window that Constance looks towards was paid for by the Atkinson family.”

Belle slumped; “So she wasn’t quite as unhappy with her husband as I thought.”

“No, I think he was unhappy with her. She would have had a clear view of Adam Asher’s grave, if it wasn’t for the rather stern stained glass of John the Baptist.”

“Her husband was coming between them even in death.”

Joseph hummed his agreement as he stood and gathered their empty plates; “Not any more. That window was shattered in the explosion. It’s the one we’re saving up to have an image of Mother Mary on.”

Belle realized which window Joseph was talking about. It was plain glass for now, until they had raised enough money. The idea that the statue of Constance would have a clear view of her love’s last resting place made Belle smile as she helped Joseph with the washing up.

-x-x-

The morning of the tenth dawned clear and bright, but rapidly became one of those days where Belle wished she’d stayed in bed. They’d woken up ridiculously early because the statue was supposed to be delivered between seven and nine so as not to interfere with Mass. Neither of them were morning people at the best of times. Joseph could deliver Mass while barely awake but was useless at much else first thing. The amount of times Belle had found him staring blankly at the unplugged kettle was ridiculous. He’d limited himself to one whiskey last night, so he was clear headed to help with the statue, but the drop-in alcohol had left him restless and he’d not slept well. A snippy, cranky priest was not Belle’s idea of a fun way to start her day, especially before she’d had a cup of tea.

Once they had both got some caffeine into their systems things became easier, but the morning was determined to go wrong. Joseph spent half an hour on the phone with the delivery team because they couldn’t find the church. Then they had called back to say that they were stuck in traffic and weren’t going to arrive until ten. Joseph was polite and understanding on the phone but swore once he’d hung up.

“We didn’t need to be up this early after all.”

They headed across to the church earlier than they normally would have and discovered the morning’s next challenge. A pigeon had managed to sneak inside, possibly through a window that had been left open, and it was not happy about being disturbed. In typical pigeon fashion it expressed it’s displeasure by shitting all over pews and priest as Joseph tried to shoo it outside.

While Joseph hurried back to the rectory to change Belle set to work cleaning up the church. It was close, but they were just ready for Mass to start at ten. A few people enquired about the strong smell of bleach and Father MacAvoy’s breathlessness. The explanation made most folk giggle, and a few made reference to a cartoon that Belle had never heard of before. Joseph was stunned; “I promise we’ll find some Wacky Races for you to watch. Everyone should see Dastardly and Muttley.”

Mass went well, and Belle dared to think that the day was picking up, until Mr Oakes opened the church door at the end of service and yelped. The delivery men had arrived during Mass and decided to leave the statue on the doorstep instead of interrupting or waiting until Joseph could attend to them.

Once they had got the highly-strung Mr Oakes calmed down they were faced with the problem of moving the statue. Thankfully Mrs Buchannan rallied her sons to assist. Thomas, Richard and Harry all stood a foot and a half taller than Joseph and were at least twice as broad. They had no trouble lifting the statue, but manoeuvring the three of them and the statue up the narrow stairs to the balcony took some careful twisting and breathing in.

Joseph automatically forgave Harry for swearing in church when Richard accidently trapped his fingers between the wall and the statue.

“I’ve said worse at times, and you didn’t blaspheme.”

Belle snorted as Harry muttered; “No offence Father, but your mum isn’t downstairs waiting to give you a clip around the ear.”

Joseph was too busy fretting that Constance was positioned right to reply to that. The Buchannan men were patient and calm as their priest fluttered around them. When they lowered the statue to the floor a strange thing happened. Constance appeared to twist out of the men’s grip and settle perfectly facing the window. Thomas frowned at his brothers who shrugged.

“I think that’s where she wants to be Father.”

Joseph nodded; “That’s exactly where she should be.”

Richard’s suggestion that the statue must have settled into the space it had occupied previously was a sensible one. At least it would have been had the balcony not been replaced during the refurbishments. Belle bit her lip and kept her doubts to herself. She was letting her imagination run away with itself again. It had only looked like the statue had moved on its own because it was so realistic and had caught the light oddly as the men put it down.

From the odd looks the brothers Buchannan gave the statue on the way-out Belle wasn’t the only one’s whose imagination was working overtime.

-x-x-

Joseph trudged back to the church, worn, tired and feeling about a hundred years old. Hospital visiting always left him feeling drained, especially when there was so little he could do. Mr Everett was being moved to hospice care tomorrow, the cancer at the point that nothing else could be done but to make him comfortable. Joseph had offered prayers and bantered with him about football, it helped but it never felt like it was enough.

All he wanted to do right now was head home and collapse on the couch with a big glass of whiskey, or three. There were no lights on in the rectory, which was odd because Belle had a habit of lighting the place up like a Christmas tree the second dusk began. There were lights on in the church, so he turned his step that way thinking that maybe Belle was cleaning or something. He could help her with that and postpone his drinking for a while longer.

He shivered as he walked through the churchyard. The weather was turning more typically autumnal at last. A flickering light caught his attention, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d found discarded glow sticks or flash light things in the churchyard. At least that’s what he was hoping to find, if some careless bugger had started a fire he was going to be very annoyed.

He headed towards the gravestone but couldn’t find anything that could been the source of the flickering.

“Well that’s odd.”

Joseph turned on the spot trying to work out where the light might be coming from. The light grew to a blinding intensity, forcing Joseph to screw his eyes shut. A howling wind swept around him, tugging at his coat and blocking all sound from his ears, but the panicked thumping of his own heart.

Adam Asher opened his borrowed eyes and gazed at the church. Through a crystal-clear window, he spied his love. At last, they would be reunited.

Belle had spent most of the afternoon attending to the flowers. She always found it soothing to spruce up the vases of blooms that decorated the church. With care and attention, she could make the flowers last at least a week, more if she was lucky. Joseph would be home late tonight, he always stayed until the very end of visiting hours especially for people like Mr Everett who had no family of his own to stop by and see him. She’d put a stew in the slow cooker for their dinner, so Joseph would have a decent meal to line his stomach if he felt the need to hit the whiskey hard tonight. He was more in control of his drinking than he had been when she’d first met him, but he had bad days.

Just as she was getting ready to head to the rectory a flickering light drew her attention to the balcony. Maybe the bulb had been jogged loose as they positioned the statue this morning. She trotted up the stairs thinking she’d have to tell Joseph how it really did look like the statue was moving when the light on the fritz.

At the top of the stairs she squinted at the light bulb and frowned. It was glowing steadily, but there was still something flickering. How odd. The flickering must be coming from outside. It was the wrong colour for a police car, but there might be someone playing with torches in the churchyard, a lot of the kids got flashy toys at this time of year.

As she looked out of the window a roaring wind blew up from nowhere. The light became so bright that she covered her head with her arms, convinced that the bulb was about to explode.

Connie Thorns blinked as the light faded. Her eyes sought the window and she saw her love standing in the churchyard. She laughed with pure joy when he returned her wave. They would finally be together.

Adam slipped and slid across the wet grass as he raced towards the church. The door was thrown open and Connie came running out, her arms flung wide as she reached for him. They crashed together, and propriety be damned Adam bowed his head and caught Connie’s lips in a kiss. It was messy and uncoordinated as they tried to kiss and speak and laugh with relief all at once.

“Adam. I love you. I always will.”

“I love you Connie, my heart, we’ll be together always now.”

When their lips met this time, it was a perfect expression of the depth of their love with none of the bitter sorrow of their separation. In the warm soft glow of eternity, they moved on as one.

Joseph jerked his lips back from Belle. He was sure he should let go of her hips and take a step back as well, but his knees were shaking too much to manage it. The way Belle was gripping his shoulders made him think she was having similar balance problems.

Belle licked her lips and cleared her throat; “So, that happened.”

“Yeah, that it did. What the hell just happened?”

Belle’s brow scrunched as she tried to find the words; “Erm, I think, maybe we were possessed?”

She suddenly stepped away from him, her hand flew to her mouth and she stammered out; “I’m sorry! For kissing you I mean.”

“So am I, sorry for kissing you.”

“I’m not the one with a vow of chastity to think about Joseph.”

He raked his hands through his hair and puffed out a breath; “I don’t think there’s anything in the rules about spirit possession.”

They shared a very serious look for all of three seconds before they both started giggling.

“I suppose we could ask the bishop for his advice.” Belle could barely keep the grin from her face as she made the suggestion.

“Fuck no! He’d probably ask me how much I’d been drinking and think that I’d corrupted you into the bottom of a bottle.”

Belle tucked her hand around Joseph’s arm and started them walking towards the rectory. They strolled together in silence until they reached Adam Asher’s grave. It fell right to pause for a moment in front of the stone.

Joseph sighed and quietly asked; “Do you think they are happy now?”

Belle squeezed his arm; “They’re together, that’s a happy ending by anyone’s reckoning.”

He nodded and bowed his head to offer a prayer to Adam and Connie’s eternal and peaceful rest. At some point he’d find the words to explain to Belle how good it had felt to help the two spirits, as unconventional as the method of assistance might have been.

As they resumed walking back to the rectory another thought occurred to Joseph. He was also going to be spending quite some time thinking about how nice it felt to kiss Belle.


End file.
